


A Fated Reunion

by HeirsandGraces



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Pirates of the Caribbean RPF
Genre: F/M, Movie: Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, Movie: Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides, Pirates of the Caribbean References, The Black Pearl (Pirates of the Caribbean)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:46:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24307654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeirsandGraces/pseuds/HeirsandGraces
Summary: Margaret Smyth is returning to the Caribbean after years spent abroad.  When the ship she is traveling on is attacked by the Black Pearl, Margaret is suddenly reunited with the very familiar face of Captain Hector Barbossa.  Hector Barbossa is on a quest for information on the Fountain of Youth.  Will Barbossa realize there are things far more valuable than living forever?  Will Margaret forgive him for abandoning her all those years ago?*Takes place shortly after POTC: At World's End with tie-ins to POTC: On Stranger Tides.  **Hector Barbossa/Margaret Smyth (OC/Canon)**
Relationships: Hector Barbossa/Margaret Smyth, Hector Barbossa/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

_"Love is giving someone the power to destroy you, but trusting them not to." -Unknown_

* * *

The brig on La Rosa Coraggiosa, or ‘the Brave Rose,’ was far lovelier than any jail Margaret had ever had the pleasure of being in. Her cell was dry, relatively clean, and she even had her own porthole where she could gaze out onto the open ocean. 

Another upside to her imprisonment seemed to be the fact that her jailer, Signore Russo, was a complete halfwit. 

When Captain Luccehsi had ordered his men to throw her into the brig for attempting to insight a mutiny (she would argue that she was merely providing management suggestions) Captain Lucchesi had instructed the Signore to check her for weapons. Well, Signore Russo had checked her for weapons. However, the Signore’s idea of a weapons check was more of an excuse to freely grope her breasts and arse until she had kicked him in the balls. Her actions had earned her a hard slap to the cheek and the irons manacles clasped around her wrists.

It was fine. She could bide her time waiting for the perfect moment for escape to present itself. Her plan was simple enough; bide her time until Signore Russo was drunk, get herself free, seek her own revenge on the jailer, pilfer some food and wine, and make off in one of the ship’s dinghies. They were not too far out from San Juan. She could very easily navigate herself to shore. 

Presently, Signore Russo, was slumped over in his chair near the brig’s entrance; a bottle of empty chianti in his hands. The man’s deep snoring echoed throughout the hold. Margaret was surprised nobody above deck could hear them.

As the Signore slept, she busied herself with the lock on the shackles. Between her teeth was a thin blade no larger than a letter opener. Due to Signore Russo’s ineptitude, he had not located the weapon which she had stashed in her bodice. This little tool had been used many times over the years to break out of the most stalwart of security devices. The cuffs of iron on her wrists were no match for her skill. 

With a bit of careful maneuvering, the bolts holding the irons together were unlocked. The shackles fell to the floor with a clang. She glanced over at Signore Russo who continued to sleep undisturbed by the noise. 

The door to her cell just as easily opened. 

Her escape seemed a sure thing until she was thrown unceremoniously off balance by a sudden reeling of the ship. Her body met the wooden floor of the brig with a hard thud. 

There was a muffled explosion outside as the walls of the Italian vessel shuddered. 

Margaret knew immediately what was happening—canon fire, the Brave Rose was under attack. 

Another blast caused Signore Russo to fall from his chair. The empty bottle of chianti shattered. The fat Italian scrambled up to his feet looking about the room. He spotted Margaret sheepishly sprawled outside her cell. 

Despite the obvious calamity happening outside, the jailer came towards her with his sword raised. 

With some flair, she jumped to her feet and brandished her dagger in the air. The Signore took sight of the measly weapon and had the audacity to laugh at her. She frowned. Without another thought, she threw the dagger at the man. The dagger’s blade landed at the center point of the man’s throat, right where his shirt dipped down revealing skin. She smirked in satisfaction as Signore Russo cried out; dropping his sword to clutch at his injury. Head down, she ran at him using the full force of her momentum to knock him down to the ground. 

Pulling her dagger free and tucking it back into her bodice, she mercifully knocked the Signore out cold and made her way out of the brig. 

Thankfully, the crew of the Brave Rose were too busy manning the canons to take note of her escape. 

As she went up onto the main deck, she took in the chaos swarming around her. 

Black sails and smoke blanketed the sky. 

_Pirates_.

She had warned Captain Lucchesi of such a possibility. This portion of the seas was notorious for pirate vessels. The Brave Rose was a merchant ship not meant for open seas battle. She had argued for a different route but the Captain Lucchesi had not listened to her.

Peering over the railing, it took her a moment to recognize the attacking ship. 

It was the Black Pearl. 

Margaret couldn’t help it as the corners of her lips tugged upwards in a twisted smile. Five years ago, she had lay abandoned on a beach in Hispaniola watching as the pirate ship had sailed away. She could still recall the waves crashing around her as she lay in a crumpled heap on the wet sand. Her heart had broken as the Black Pearl had faded into the distance. In an instant, her life had changed forever. 

A cannonball hurtling over her head brought her attention back to the present. She ducked as the main sail cracked in two pieces; falling into the sea. The Brave Rose was doomed. She needed to act quickly. Her target was Captain Lucchesi’s cabin. There was some property she needed to repossess. 

Fortunately, the Captain was too busy avoiding death by pirate sword to guard his private quarters. 

Once inside the cabin, she made quick work rifling through the room. 

First, she came across her sword locked away in a case by the door. A gift from an Ottoman vizier, her sword’s hilt was inlaid with ivory carved to resemble a tulip. The Captain had been eyeing her sword since she had first come aboard the Brave Rose. No doubt, he had planned on keeping it for his own use which she could not stomach. Next, she located her leather portmanteau. It had rifled through. All her belongings were scattered across the cabin’s dining table. She shoved her possessions back into the portmanteau before slinging the bag over her shoulder. Finally, she grabbed a sack of gold coin from the Captain’s desk. The sack of coin didn’t technically belong to her, but she viewed the money as payment for services rendered. 

As smoke filled the room, she dashed out of the Captain’s cabin. Making her way across the deck towards the dinghies, she avoided the clash of pirates and Italian merchants locked in battle. With her focus otherwise occupied, she ran smack into a solid wall of flesh. 

Strong hands wrapped around her arms and she looked up into the familiar face of Captain Hector Barbossa. 

An expression of shock crossed over the Pirate Lord’s face as he realized it was her. He held her in his grasp; eyes raking over. The pair stood amid the burning ruins of the Brave Rose momentarily oblivious to all around them.

It had been five years since she had last seen Hector Barbosa. His appearance had changed. 

Yes, he was a bit more grizzled. There were a few more lines around his eyes and his hair was a bit greyer. That was not the change she noticed. The pirate who had left her to her fate in Hispaniola all those years ago had been a ghost of a man. An unfeeling creature cursed by Aztec gold. The man who stood before her now glowed with the spark of life. There was a light in his eye. A vigor emanating from his being. 

So, the rumors were true. He had reached the Isla de Muerta and broken the curse. 

A flurry of emotions came over her; fury, excitement, betrayal— _hope_. Time and time again she had pictured meeting him, but never could she have imagined a reunion such as this. She wondered if it all had been worth it. 

Barbossa went to speak but closed his mouth. Very rarely was Hector Barbossa ever at a loss for words. 

Apparently realizing that he still held onto her, Barbossa gently shoved her away. 

“Nice to see you again, Hector,” Margaret said breaking the tension. There was a crowd forming around them. She noted the familiar faces of some of the Pearl’s crew. She chanced a small wave at Master Pintel and Ragetti who looked as surprised as Barbossa by her reappearance.

Barbossa remained silent as she quickly worked out a new plan. 

“I invoke the privilege of parlay?”


	2. Chapter 2

Hopefully, the Italians knew how to swim. The last of the Brave Rose’s crew were thrown overboard to find refuge on the floating debris surrounding the sinking vessel. It was a cruel fate, but at least they had a slim chance at survival. Other pirates would not have been as forgiving.

Barbossa watched the scene for a second more, then checked with Master Cotton on the navigational course. Jack the monkey was clinging to his shoulder chewing on a roughly cut ruby stolen from the goods being hauled aboard the Black Pearl. The merchant ship had been primed for the taking. Only an inexperienced man would dare sail these waters without proper artillery. The Pearl had overtaken the Brave Rose without much effort. As he observed his men lugging goods down to below, he was pleased to see his efforts rewarded; the ship carried wine, silks, coin, and jewels. 

There was also another unexpected treasure aboard the Brave Rose: _Margaret_ _Smyth_.

The aforementioned woman was currently making use of his cabin which was part of the reason why Barbossa remained by the ship’s helm. He wasn’t ready to face her yet. Or, the feelings she awoke within him. 

For two years, Margaret had assisted him in lifting the Aztec curse. She had been a young lass when he first met her; not even twenty. He had found her in possession of a handful of the cursed gold and threatened to kill her if she didn’t hand them over. Instead, she had struck a bargain and pledged to help him track down the rest of the missing pieces and lift the curse in exchange for a portion of the treasure. She was thrifty. Could easily make herself comfortable in both polite society and aboard a pirate ship. She helped him locate a significant portion of the scattered gold scattered across the Caribbean and North America.

As with any tale, circumstances got out of hand. 

Barbossa became too involved with the young woman. He had encouraged her carelessness. Nurtured the wild spirit within. She soon fell in love with him and he favored her above all others despite knowing whatever they shared could not last. His crew became wary of his preference for her. She was his only weakness.

In an act of self-preservation, he had abandoned her on Hispaniola believing it the only way to sever their bond. 

Barbossa could still remember the look on her face when he had sailed away. The betrayal in her eyes as she was left to deal with the fallout. 

At the time, he had felt so little, by way of emotion, that he assured himself that he was doing the young woman a favor. He was a cursed pirate. She had no business in his company.

Now, with Margaret waiting in his cabin, he was forced to reevaluate his decision and deal with the resulting consequences.

“Captain Barbossa,” Master Pintel called to him from below. “The requested meal has been laid out fer ya, sir. Miss Smyth is awaitn’ yer presence.”

He had been less afraid facing the cold eternity of Davy Jones’ Locker than he presently felt entering his own cabin. Jack scampered off to wreak havoc among the crew while Barbossa went to confront Margaret.

Reclined in one of his dining chairs was the woman who’s very being he had been avoiding since departing the Brave Rose.

The woman had her pointy toed Persian boots up on the table’s edge. She glanced up at him through thick lashes as he entered the cabin. Her dark curls were tied back by a scarlet ribbon, yet a few strands hung free to cling attractively to her forehead. She wore an eccentric ensemble of clothing from the Mediterranean. A white linen shirt was worn beneath a short jacket of silver and gold ornate cloth. Voluminous russet-colored pants covered her legs and were tucked into her pointed boots. A sword hung at her hip and a single pearl earring dangled from her left ear contrasting against her olive skin. 

Normally, her cheeks were dimpled roses, but there was a purple bruise blooming beneath her right eye. He wondered who dared to strike her; fury rising in his throat. 

“Don’t worry, I got ‘em good between the legs first,” she remarked noticing his focus on the injury.

Barbossa chuckled and took his place in a chair across from her. 

His crew had prepared a lovely spread including some fruit plundered from the Italian ship. He took a green apple and tossed it to her remembering it was her favorite. Margaret caught it and met his eye as she bit into it. The juices dripped down her chin. His mouth went dry at the sight. 

Was she purposefully taunting him?

He distracted himself with a glass of wine. No doubt, he would be needing a lot of wine to survive the foreseeable conversation. Fortified by the wine, Barbossa decided it was as good a time as any to begin.

“How’d ye get off Hispaniola?”

It wasn’t a great start, but it was better than nothing at all.

She ruefully snorted at his question, “After all this time, that’s all you have to ask me?”

“Just curious to know how ye escaped and ended up, years later, on an Italian merchant’s vessel?”

She shrugged while taking another bite of the apple, “Well that’s quite a long story." 

“I’ve got all the time in the world,” he countered.

“Not anymore, you don’t,” his companion replied with an air of resentment in her tone. 

Barbossa smirked and fell quiet while she began her tale.

“When you kindly left me behind in Hispaniola to finish your quest to break curse, I was taken into Spanish custody. For a minute, I believed the rest of my life would be spent in a Spanish prison but, as luck would have it, a slave rebellion distracted the Spaniards long enough for me to escape. I ended up on a ship bound for Marseille. Then, I spent some time in Constantinople. That is where I met Captain Lucchesi of the Piacenza Partnership.”

“The Captain was putting together a crew to sail for San Juan where we would sell some goods and make a little coin. I offered my expert services and after some convincing I was taken on as first mate. I proved an excellent choice 'til Captain Lucchesi and I had some disagreements on how the ship should be managed.”

“Mutiny is seldom appreciated,” he mused. “I presume Lucchesi didn’t quite appreciate yer inpute?”

“No, but my Italian isn’t very good. I think I accidentally called him a spineless pig when I was trying to get my point across,” Margaret quipped setting the finished apple core on her plate. 

Reaching for the bottle of wine, she poured herself a large amount and drank.

She had experienced her fair share of adventure. That would not have happened if she had remained with him. Her fate would’ve been either to perish alongside him on the Isla de Muerta or to hang for piracy in Port Royal. 

He would not feel guilty over the obvious courtesy he had afforded her.

“Ye seem to have done well for yerself,” he murmured into his cup. 

There was not much else he could say without revealing too much of his own feelings. An old emotion came to rest in his heart: _fear_. Having Margaret once more in his presence was causing him to slowly realize she was likely the only person in the world who had truly held power over him. He desired her. Even after all these years, she was still the only woman he could say he truly cared about. 

The best plan would be to make for the nearest port and let her be free to set sail on her next excursion. 

Putting on a false mask of detachment, he said, “Under the terms of parlay, ye may make free use of my cabins until we next make port. Then, ye’ll be free to go wherever ye wish, Miss Smyth.”

Suddenly, like a change in the wind, her brow furrowed in anger. She slammed down her cup causing the wine to slosh out. The table rattled as she shot to her feet. 

It was a rare thing for a woman to be made even more beautiful by rage, but Margaret had a peculiar means of achieving such an outcome. 

“Thank you for your offer, _Captain_ _Barbossa_ , but I am very comfortable below in the bilge with the rest of your crew. I wouldn’t have you doing me any favors.”

She grabbed her bag and made to storm off, but he caught her wrist coming to stand as well. The woman attempted to wrestle her arm away, but he held firm. His other hand grazed her bruised cheek and she flinched at his touch.

“Margaret, I did not mean to insult ye.”

“You never _mean_ to do anything, Hector, yet your intentions do not excuse your actions. Now let me go.”

He set her free, as he had done earlier, and watched as she stalked out of his cabin.

~*~

The night sky was clear of all clouds. An endless void of stars sparkled above her. The Caribbean air was like no other; laced with salt, spice, and possibility. Margaret had been born here. This was her home. She was supposed to feel at ease among these waters, but never had she felt more unsettled.

A hammock had been prepared for her by the crew, who were all too eager to have a woman in the bilge, but she couldn’t sleep. Instead, she had ventured out to perch on the bowsprit. Her legs dangled in the wind. All alone with only the sea for company, her earlier conversation with Barbossa played on a loop in her mind. 

Pride demanded her to be angry with him. 

Foolishly, she had hoped everything would be different between them. 

She certainly had changed. 

Before Barbossa had abandoned her on Hispaniola, Margaret had been so fearless; ripe with youthful self-assurance, but also blind to the ways of the world. Then came the fateful day when he had left. All at once, she became familiar with the world’s unkindness. She had to become amendable to all manner of living; to the extreme compassion and cruelty which plagued mankind. She had visited parts of the world most could only dream of and with every passing day she sensed herself growing more distrustful of it all.

But when it came to Barbossa, it was as if no time had passed. He may be rid of the Aztec curse, but he remained the same unfeeling pirate from her memories. The man she had given her heart to and watched as he had, in turn, thrown it away. 

Apparently, time could not scourge the innate cruelty of a person’s heart.

A primal cry sounded above her. 

Margaret looked up to see Jack swinging from the ropes of the foresail. The monkey came to sit on the bowsprit in front of her. In his hands was a green apple. She took the proffered fruit and scratched the little monkey under his chin. He gave another cry; scampering back up the rope. 

With a rueful smile, she held the apple in her hands and sampled the sweet fruit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are enjoying the story so far. This is my first time publishing on Archive of Our Own. You can also follow the story at Fanfiction.com!


	3. Chapter 3

The following morning Margaret wandered the deck of the Black Pearl. 

Master Mullroy was busy steering the ship while the rest of the crew was going about their duties. Barbossa had yet to leave his quarters leaving her free to reacquaint herself with the ship. 

It was a bit more weathered since she’d last been aboard. The Pearl was unlike any other vessel; a living, breathing piece of the world. A real pirate ship—not some amateur buccaneer’s pilfered shipping boat. She’d been so afraid when she had first stepped aboard. 

Her first taste at a life on the open seas. 

She wandered up the stairs to the helm. Master Mullroy ducked his head in greeting and she smiled warmly at the man. Not often one met a British officer turned pirate. He and Master Murtogg were friendly people. She got along easily with them and the rest of the crew. The crew’s initial excitement over having a female aboard was very quickly extinguished by the notable connection shared between Margaret and Captain Barbossa. Undoubtedly, Pintel and Ragetti had spread the story about her past adventures on the Black Pearl. Best not to mess with a woman who once was presumed to have the Pirate Lord’s heart.

On the deck of the helm, a short distance behind the wheel, she found a discarded map. Looking around to make sure no one was paying attention to her whereabouts, she bent down and unfurled the map. Strangely, a large circle had been crudely cut out the map’s middle. She studied the map over studying the images surrounding the missing piece.

“I see yer curiosity is as rampant as ever,” Barbossa groused with a sly smile on his face. She hadn’t heard him coming up behind her, but there he stood.

Ignoring the pirate’s jest, Margaret asked, “Who would do such a thing to a map?”

“Our old friend, Jack Sparrow,” he said coming to stand beside her. Annoyance dripped from his lips, “Didn’t know the center of the map had been cut out ‘til we were set off from Tortuga. Now the thing is useless.”

Jack Sparrow, good to know he was still up to his old antics. It must have been a very important map to tempt stealing from Barbossa. 

Margaret studied the kanji. Her disappointment concerning Barbossa and their conversation from yesterday couldn’t distinguish the growing interest in the map. Her mother used to say it was her fatal flaw: curiosity. 

“ _Eve’s curiosity led to the downfall of all mankind_ ,” her mother would preach whenever Margaret asked too many questions. Women weren’t supposed to ask question. They were expected to listen.

Margaret would’ve never fit into the role her mother wanted for her. Hence, her turn to an alternative way of living.

“Where did this map lead to before it was destroyed?” 

Barbossa’s eyes narrowed and he seemed to be debating whether to tell her the truth. After a moment, he sighed, “The map leads to many places, but the destination I was seeking was the Fountain of Youth.”

The Fountain of Youth. She could almost laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. She should’ve known it would be some wild legend he was after, “Didn’t you learn your lesson with the Aztec gold? Eternal life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“That was different,” he corrected. “There is no _known_ curse associated with the Fountain.”

She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, “Everything has a price, Hector.”

“I know better than anyone what ye are referencing. I’ll remind ye weren’t the one who spent a decade under the curse,” he warned. 

“No, I just had to live with the consequences!”

Margaret nearly shouted the last sentence at him; her voice quivering on the edge. 

Several crew members were staring at them. Not often someone challenged their Captain to a battle of wits for all to see. Barbossa stood in front of her with an impassive expression on his face. The sight made her want to scream. Was he so cruel?

Frustrated, she threw the map to the deck where it landed at his feet. She stalked off down the stairs, head held high, seeking the sanctuary of the bilge. 

Once below, with her portmanteau in her lap, Margaret released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Her heart was racing, and she closed her eyes to steady herself. There was another reason why she had rushed to be near her belongings. It just so happened that she had in her possession a book she had stolen from the national library in Constantinople. She didn’t know why she had taken it. Just another in a long list of compulsive decisions she had made. 

Margaret pulled the book from her bag. At first glance, the book was nothing special. A collection of legends based on the life of Alexander the Great. Her nights on the Brave Rose had been spent reading the book from cover to cover; fairytales to put her to sleep. As she rapidly flipped through the book’s pages, she came across a gilded map. On the opposite page from the map, a legend was written about how Alexander the Great and his faithful servant traveled the seas to drink from a fountain. The fountain’s waters were the “ma’ alhaya” or the “waters of life.” 

Alexander went on to travel the world, free from the chains of time, while his servant disappeared into the sea.

Slowly, Margaret’s fingers traced the map. The southern tip of Florida lay against a brightly painted Caribbean Sea along with the Bahamian islands and the Spanish colony of Cuba. 

In her hands was a map to the Fountain of Youth. 

Margaret felt her heart sink as she clutched the book to her chest. 

~*~

Barbossa stood at the helm, wheel in hand, navigating the ship through the night. They were little more than a day’s travel from Tortuga, if the conditions kept up. There was a current from the north that was slowing their approach, but they had done well to keep pace. He was not one to enjoy the pleasure of the pirate island, but he was eager to be rid of Margaret. She brought out a volatility in him which made him uneasy.

Handing off his duties at the helm to Mullroy, Barbossa made his way towards his cabin where Jack was waiting for him. He passed the ladder which led down to the brig. He felt himself being drawn below the main deck to where his crew slept. It was a force within him that he could do little to stop. 

He knew exactly what attracted him. 

The object of his desire was sleeping in a hammock in the far corner away from the greater mass of bodies. 

Margaret lay on her side with her jacket lay sprawled over her like a blanket. One arm formed a makeshift pillow beneath her head; her loose curls swirling about her like a black veil. He came closer to watch the gentle rise and fall of her chest. A hand reached out. His fingers pushed away some strands of hair; relishing the silky texture. The bruise on her cheek was fading from purple to a pinkish yellow. His thumb traced over the injury evoking a drowsy murmur from the woman.

Many times, when they had shared a bed, Barbossa had awoken in the middle of the night to watch Margaret asleep in his arms. She was still so peaceful in sleep. Nothing like the hellion she could be when awake. He would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy both sides of her personality. 

Abruptly, he brought his hand away from her like she was a flame burning his skin. He had spent enough time reflecting on the past. He had more important matters to attend to.

As he turned to leave, the pirate noticed a book cradled in the crook of Margaret’s arm. One of her long fingers was tucked between the pages. Even in sleep, she held on tightly to it. He had never known the woman to be a voracious reader. Perhaps, she had changed, but something told him there was more to it. Gently, he slipped the book from her hold knowing if the positions were reversed, she would do the same. 

Keeping the book open to the same page she had placed her finger, Barbossa squinted his eyes. Only a sliver of moonlight creeping through the ship planks above illuminated the pages. However, the gold foil glowed bright in the dim light. 

A gold ‘X’ marked a spot halfway between the Bahamas and Florida. 

His mind raced to recreate the central piece of Sao Feng’s map; recalling when he had studied it on the trip to Davy Jones’ Locker. It too had depicted the Floridian coast. The story went Ponce de Leon’s ship sunk adjacent to the Bahamian island. The ‘X’ was roughly in the same location as the story told. 

A sense of betrayal roared to life. Peering down at the sleeping woman, he wondered if Margaret’s earlier outburst was in some part due to this book which she had conveniently hidden away. Was that why she had returned to the Caribbean? 

He would not be so easily manipulated.

All of a sudden, the book was ripped from his grasp by Margaret. The woman’s eyes were wide open in panic as she scrambled from the hammock and pressed the book to her chest. He came forward crowding her against a corner. He could tell even in this light that her cheeks were flushed bright pink. Her brows were furrowed in disdain.

If this was the game she wanted to play, he would gladly oblige her.

“To yer feet ye filthy bilge rats. All hands on deck!” he shouted awaking the entire galley. 

Some of his crew fell from their hammocks in alarm at the sound of his yelling. Half asleep, they ran towards Barbossa; assembling around him. Master Ragetti came from above carrying a lantern. In the light, he was better able to see Margaret. She reached for her sword, which lay atop her leather traveling bag, but Barbossa stopped her. He grabbed her arm and twisted it. She cried out and attempted to squirm out of his clutches. 

He ignored her and turned his attention to his crew who was awaiting instruction.

“Masters Pintel and Ragetti take this wench to my quarters and make sure she cannot escape,” Barbossa ordered shoving Margaret towards the men. 

As she stumbled forward into the crowd, he was able to rip the book from her grasp. She pivoted and went to grab the book back from him, but she was already in the clutches of his crewmembers. Bloody oaths, which would cause a fish monger to blush, spilled from her lips as Pintel and Ragetti held her still. He met her eyes and she shot him a deadly glare. A spiteful smirk twisted his mouth as he watched as the woman was hauled up to his quarters kicking and screaming.

He turned to one of the deckhands. His voice was laced with venomous amusement as he commanded, “Let out the sails. I want to be in Tortuga by tomorrow.”


	4. Chapter 4

One part of a life on the open seas Margaret did not relish was bloodshed. She chalked it up to her strict upbringing. “ _Thou shall not kill._ ” Her mother had read the scriptures every day when Margaret was growing up both in the morning and at bedtime. A strict Protestant, her mother made Margaret and her brother memorize the Ten Commandments before they could even spell their own names. There was not much of her old faith that she still adhered to, but that one commandment stuck with her. She had killed a man. In fact, she had killed many. Unfortunately, it came with the territory of a life at sea. However, she was never motivated by bloodlust. She never craved the idea of killing like some people she had met.

At this very moment, Margaret felt like murdering the whole crew of the Black Pearl if it was the last thing she ever did.

Nearly a day had passed since she had awoken to find Barbossa in possession of her book. She had thought the book safe in arms while she slept rather than leaving it in her portmanteau. Jack the monkey was notorious for stealing from unsuspecting individuals, and she couldn’t trust the crew not to search her things. Why the Pirate Lord was even in the bilge in the first place was beyond her comprehension. It seemed he was just as cunning as always. 

When Pintel and Ragetti had first brought her to Barbossa’s cabin Ragetti had suggested tying Margaret up on Barbossa’s bed as a “present to the Captain.” With some thought, they feared their Captain’s black temper. They chose to fasten her to a dining chair with her wrists and ankles tied to the chair’s arms and legs. 

Pintel had brought the rest of her belongings to the cabin earlier in the day along with some bread and salted pork which he had offered to feed her. Margaret had refused the meal. She spent her time figuring out how she could get her dagger from her jacket pocket in order to free herself.

They should be reaching Tortuga soon. The ship was traveling at a breakneck pace and the sounds of the crew working floated in from outside.

Roughly, she yanked herself forward hearing the legs of chair screech against the wood. She made some progress until the legs hit an uneven plank. She jumped in her seat, but the chair only became unsteady. With an ungraceful splatter, the chair fell taking her along with it. 

“Valiant effort, but I’m afraid ye might as well give up,” she heard Barbossa chuckle as he swept through the cabin door. 

He had the goodness to lift the chair, and her, back to its normal upright position.

Margaret scrutinized the Pirate Lord as he came to stand before her. She wanted to wipe the smug expression off his face. Due to her bindings such actions were impossible. As an alternative, she remained silent. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response.

“We’ve arrived in Tortuga,” he informed. Her book was in his hand and he flourished it before her. 

Her eyes narrowed, “Then let me go on my way. Ye have the book and I know yer eager to be rid of me.”

The pirate shook his head. 

“Can’t have ye running free while I have business to attend to on the island. No, ye’ll wait here on the ship then we’ll set ye loose ‘fore we set sail.”

The way he was acting right now was the exact reason she had chosen to hide the book from him. She had witnessed firsthand what the promise of eternal life and riches could do to a man like Hector Barbossa. He would forsake all else until he reached his prize. He had done it when trying to break the Aztec curse. He would do it with the Fountain of Youth.

Well, this time, Margaret wouldn’t willingly be dragged along for the adventure.

“You’re a black-hearted bastard!” She spat out. She couldn’t stifle the rage growing in her belly. The grin on his face only fueled her fire, “I can’t believe that despite the history we share you would still resort to tying me up like a common rival on your ship. I don’t want the bloody book. You can have the book and your damn Fountain. For five years, I wondered if I would ever see you again. Then, when I saw you on the deck of the Brave Rose, I hoped for a second you had changed. But, I see now that I’m a fool. You’re still the same cursed soul who marooned me on that island and you always will be.”

The words tasted like bitter poison on her lips. Her cheeks were burning. She was straining so hard against the ropes holding her to the chair that her skin was beginning to rub raw. Tears of frustration were forming in the corners of her eyes, but she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. She would not fall to pieces in front of him.

Even though a smirk still painted his face, there was something in Barbossa’s eyes that betrayed a sense of sadness. 

_Good_ , Margaret internally seethed. He did have feelings after all. 

“Then let me live up to yer expectations, Miss Smyth. I’ll be taken this with me,” he pulled from his coat the sack of gold she had stolen from the Brave Rose. To add insult to injury, he sneered, “I was considering givin’ this back to ye, but since I’m a black-hearted baster I shan’t be doing that. This’ll surely buy me the company of a dozen pretty wenches on Tortuga.” 

With a cruel laugh and a sneer, Barbossa stalked from the room.

~*~

Night had fallen when Masters Mullroy and Murtogg entered the Captain’s cabin. 

Margaret was surprised to see the men bringing her a bowl of stew and flagon of water. They placed it on the table in front of her and waited expectantly. She grunted wondering if these men could possibly be this stupid. A beat passed until they finally seemed to realize that it would be near impossible for to eat in her current state.

“I only need one of my hands to eat,” she offered moving the fingers on her right hand for emphasis. 

If one of her hands was free, she could work on getting her herself freed if she played her cards right. Also, she was hungry, and the stew did smell quite good. 

“Doesn’t seem too risky if we cut only one of her hands loose,” Murtogg reasoned.

Mullroy argued, “What if that is part of her plan to escape?”

“Well she can’t eat with both her hands tied.”

Their debate continued. 

Margaret waited until the pair seemed to settle on freeing her non-dominant hand. Under their supervision, she shakily ate her meal. The stew was meaty and warm and filled her belly as she scarfed it down. She spilled a bit of it on her pants but finished her supper relatively unscathed.

When she was done, the pirates went to leave with the dirty dishes. Now was her chance to act.

“Wait,” she called after them. “Before you go, would it be possible if I used the chamber pot?”

She kept her face even as Murtogg and Mullroy spun around at the question. They looked rightfully horrified, but finally one of them spoke.

“You’ll just have to hold it, Miss” Mullroy austerely said.

“Can’t ask her to do that, when you have to go, you have to go,” Murtogg contended while shaking his head.

“But how are we going to let her use the chamber pot? That would mean cutting the ropes.”

“We’d tie her back once she’s done with her business.”

Mullroy mulled over what his partner said. 

Finally, setting down the dirty bowl, he took out his sword and came over to where Margaret was seated. He undid the ropes on her still tied wrist and ankles. She rubbed at the raw skin pretending like she was very injured. This conjured a sympathetic look from the two pirates. Murtogg brought over the chamber pot putting it at her feet. 

Again, they both stared at her waiting from a safe distance away.

Peering down at her boots, she batted her eyelashes innocently and offered a shy smile, “I think I’m deserving of at least some privacy.”

The men exchanged glances then nodded. With their backs turned, Margaret undid her belt letting it hit the ground. Her pants sagged, but she held them up with one hand. Softly, she stepped towards the dining table slowly reaching for her sword. 

“Everything alright Miss?” 

She pretended to stutter, “Oh, um, yes, I’m just nervous with an audience is all.”

Thankfully, her sword and her jacket made no sound as she lifted them from the table. Though it saddened her, the rest of her belongings would have to wait. 

Walking backwards, towards the windows, she undid one of the latches and it let out a low squeak. The pair of pirates whipped around as she threw open one of the window panes. 

“Hey, wait!” Murtogg called as she climbed up onto a table. He tripped over the empty chamber pot as she poised herself on the window ledge. Barbossa had chosen to anchor the Black Pearl in the bay instead of bringing her to dock. Probably predicting her escape. The illuminated shoreline of Tortuga was visible in the distance; an easy enough swim.

With a wave goodbye at the pirates, Margaret took a deep breath and jumped into the warm ocean water. Black swirled around her until she got her bearings and came up for air. One hand clutched her sword and jacket while she began to paddle towards the island. 

In the distance, she could hear one of the pirates ask the other, “Did you know the windows opened?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying the story so far. I wanted to clarify the timeline:
> 
> 1724: Margaret meets Barbossa when he finds she has some of the Aztec gold in her possession. Margaret was 20 years old at this time.
> 
> 1726: Barbossa abandons Margaret on Hispaniola.
> 
> 1728: The events of "Curse of the Black Pearl" take place in 1728, ten years after Hector Barbossa led a mutiny against Jack Sparrow.
> 
> 1729: The events of the movies "Dead Man's Chest" and "At World's End" happened in 1729.
> 
> 1730: The events of this story take place.
> 
> 1732: (Spoiler?) Margaret and Hector have a daughter named "Carina." (;
> 
> That should clear up any confusion.
> 
> Please comment and kudos!


	5. Chapter 5

Tortuga was filled to the brim with all manners of drunken chaos as Barbossa made his way down the high street. When he walked others did well to move from his path. The Pirate Lord was notorious on this island. His name caused a shudder to run down the back of any man with common sense . It didn’t help that Barbossa was in a foul mood, and it emanated from him like a thick cloud of smoke. 

Margaret’s words played over and over again his head; taunting him like a siren’s song. 

_“You’re still the same cursed soul who marooned me on that island and you always will be.”_

He knew the words were said out of anger. Margaret could be as tempestuous as the Caribbean Sea during a hurricane. Yet, there was some truth to them. It would have been wiser to attempt a civil discussion with Margaret about the book, but he never considered himself a wise man. He feared betrayal even from those he likely could trust most: _Jack, Margaret, the Turners_. People who had showed him in many ways that Barbossa could, at the end of the day, rely on them. Nevertheless, he was set in his ways. Afraid of his own shadow stabbing him in the back. It was fear which blinded him. Kept him from fully considering how his actions would be perceived by Margaret. 

It was the same shortsighted reasoning which drove him to leave her stranded on Hispaniola five years ago. 

Margaret was a fool to think he could change.

As he got closer to his destination, Barbossa permitted some of his crew to go off on their own and spend their coin on drink and women. Best not to let the whole crew know his plans. They would be revealed in due time anyways. Besides, Masters Pintel and Ragetti remained by his side.

The Faithful Bride came into view. A brothel notorious for having its doors graced by the most legendary of pirates.

Barbossa removed his hat and swept it in front of him in a half-mocking bow as he entered the Faithful Bride, "Arabella, a pleasure as always!"

Arabella, the owner of the Faithful Bride, a former pirate turned tavern-keeper, gave him a warm smile. She removed her dirty apron and came round the bar with her arms stretched, “Hector! Back already I see.”

She gave him a brief hug and guided him to an empty table in the middle of the tavern’s chaos. 

At Arabella’s direction, a coquettish wench poured him a tankard of ale. The wench’s breasts strained against the bodice of her revealing gown. Barbossa offered her a wink. The woman cooed appreciatively. 

Suddenly, Barbossa remembered Margaret and what he said to her about spending her coin on pretty wenches. He inwardly cursed. Normally, the wench would be a welcome sight. He was a man who thoroughly appreciated the company of women, but there was only one woman who would satisfy his fancy right now. And, presently, that woman was tied up on his ship.

Barbossa was grateful when Arabella waved the woman away. 

The tavern-keeper slid into the chair beside Barbossa. Arabella was in her mid-forties with skin tanned and freckled from years spent out at sea. Her flaming red hair was pulled back into a low bun. They had served together on the same ship; long ago, when they had both been wabbly-kneed sea dogs. Arabella had gone on to captain her own ship and command a crew; pillaging along the North American shores. About the time Barbossa had been cursed by Aztec Gold, Arabella had hung her captain's hat to take over her family’s taven. If Barbossa remembered correctly, she even had a child and husband tucked away somewhere. A domestic dream some pirates clung to.

Arabella’s keen eyes swept over him, “Thought I wouldn’t be seeing ya’ for a long time. What brings ya’ back to Tortuga so soon, Hector?”

Out of habit, Barbossa looked around and saw his crew was now being distracted by the working women of the Faithful Bride. No one else in the tavern seemed to be paying attention to him save for a couple of nervously stolen glances. Out of caution, he leaned forward, his voice just above a whisper:

“I’ve found some information on that destination I was tellin’ ye about."

From his jacket pocket, he pulled out Margaret’s book and flipped it open to the map. He could trust Arabella. She had no interest in piracy; witnessed firsthand how the lifestyle ate away at a person’s soul. 

Arabella studied the pages of the book, her eyes widening, “So, ya’ found the Fountain after all.”

“Haven’t found it yet,” Barbossa corrected. “The coordinates don’t seem quite logical and some o' the details are written in Arabic. That’s why I’m here. Ye wouldn’t happen to know where Captain Teague is?”

“Teague,” the tavern-keeper murmured in confusion handing Barbossa back the book. “The old captain has been around—left maybe a day or two ago. Wouldn’t be surprised though if he skulked thru that door right now. I’d ask Connie about him.”

Arabella pointed to a raven-haired wench with skin the color of coffee beans sitting across the room at the upright piano. 

“Connie is Captain Teague’s favorite. Always pays to see her exclusively.”

Connie was tall like an Amazon and dressed in bright green which complimented her darker complexion. She was shaped like a goddess and had a regal bearing as her fingers moved quickly over the instrument’s keys. A bawdy tune rang out over the noise of the room, the courtesan's voice sweet and dripping with innuendo. The wench caught Hector staring at her and coyly smiled at him as she continued singing. Barbossa could see why Teague liked her.

Barbossa thanked Arabella for the information and stood from his seat. The tavern-keeper stood shrugging her shoulders, “I don’t see why ya’ didn’t just ask Jack for the information. That map of his should clarify any confusion in your book. Saw the map myself when he was last here; braggin’ about the Fountain to all who would listen.”

Inadvertently, the captain's fist tightened on the book in his hand. Jack Sparrow, here on Tortuga? When he had stranded Jack on this island weeks ago, he thought for sure Sparrow would've found some hairbrained scheme to trail Barbossa. One could never underestimate Jack's inexplicable behavior.

“When was Sparrow was last here?”

“Last night. Still has a tab opened at the bar," Arabella frowned. "By the look on your face, I’m guessin’ the two of ya’ aren’t sailing together anymore.”

“No,” Barbossa said scornfully. “There was a difference of opinion regarding the Pearl.”

The tavern-keeper just chuckled. If Barbossa couldn’t find Teague’s whereabouts, his next mission would be locating Jack, and prying the rest of Sao Feng’s map from Sparrow’s (preferably dead) hands. The map coupled with the information in Margaret’s book would be a golden path to the Fountain. His mouth could taste the fresh waters of the Fountain already. 

Barbossa gave a thankful nod to Arabella for her help before stalking away to interrogate Connie on Teague. 

As she watched the Pirate Lord walk away, Arabella put her hands on her hips. The tavern-keeper was unexpectedly reminded of why she had given up piracy in the first place. 

~*~

Margaret’s boots squished as she navigated her way down the row of shops and taverns. The wet leather was beginning to rub the soles of her feet raw. A shiver ran up her spine as the cool night air hit her damp clothing. Luckily, she had managed to partially dry herself using the heat of a burning fire pit. 

Still, she wouldn’t get far in wet boots.

As she passed a stable, Margaret came across a young boy carrying hay to the horses. Sweetly, she called him over and convinced him to give her his boots and his belt in exchange for her pearl earring. The pearl was of a decent size and luster dangling from genuine 24k gold. It was worth a pretty penny; of more value than what she was asking for. The boy ran off in excitement as Margaret fixed herself. At least now her feet were dry, her pants weren’t threatening to fall to her ankles every time she walked, and her sword was secured at her hip.

Stealing a small-brimmed hat off a sleeping drunk in the street, the woman felt a bit more rejuvenated as she walked through Tortuga. 

There was no time to waste dwadling. A stone overlook was in the distance. It was as good a spot as any to formulate a plan. 

The stone jutted out in a half circle over the shore below. Margaret sat on the ledge of the overlook. 

Barbossa had relieved her of any coin she could use for a meal and a place to sleep. She wondered briefly where the pirate had wandered off to. 

Perhaps, he was at a brothel. He had said as much when they had spoken in his cabin. He never had been one to _buy_ affection, but he could’ve changed. 

The likely answer was that he was looking for information on the Fountain. Who on the island knew about the Fountain of Youth? It had been some time since Margaret had last been in Tortuga. Besides Barbossa, all of her contacts in this part of the world were likely dead, or scattered about and difficult to find. 

There was also the issue of the rest of her worldly possessions remaining aboard the Black Pearl. She had her dagger and her sword. They would fetch a pretty penny, but she didn’t dare part with her only two weapons. 

Damn the Pirate Lord to a watery grave.

The first thing Margaret needed to do was get some money. Her jacket was of quality fabric; genuine Turkish silk. It would fetch her enough coin to survive on for the time being. A good night's rest in a lodging house would give her a fresh start in the morning. She didn't exactly know how she would track down Barbossa, or how she would retrieve her possessions on the Pearl, but it was all she could come up with at the moment. 

As she prepared to leave and find someone drunk enough to barter at this hour, Margaret heard the cries of a man below. 

Craning her neck, the young woman spotted a man running ram shod down the beach towards her location with two burly figures chasing after him. The moon was waning and the lamplight around the overlook didn’t help her see who was being chased on the beach. All she could see was flailing limbs and long hair flapping like a flag in the wind. 

It wasn't an usual sight especially on Tortuga. Probably a debtor being chased by the law. Or, a sailor who had fallen out of favor with his fellow crewmates.

"HELP!" The voice screeched from below.

Margaret wondered if she should try to intervene. Her mind counseled that she should mind her own business. But, her damn curiosity got the better of her.

Carefully, she navigated her way down the steps leading from the overlook to the beach below. The group was quickly approaching her location. She squinted into the darkness and realized exactly who was being chased.

“Jack!” Margaret exclaimed as the pirate came nearer. 

Jack Sparrow stopped his frantic escape to peer into her face. He was inches away from her face. His breath stank of stale rum and sardines. Margaret grimaced, but was truly delighted to see a familiar face. 

It took the pirate captain a minute; black eyes squinting in the dark. Then, recognition painted his face and he smiled saucily at her, “Dearest Maggie! It’s been too long! I’m a bit busy at the moment, so I’m afraid I don’t have much time to catch-up.”

He grabbed her shoulders and gave a quick kiss to both of her cheeks as a greeting. She stumbled backwards as he let her go and continued fleeing down the beach. Two burly men zoomed passed her; chasing after Jack. Bewildered, Margaret ran after the trio calling for the men to wait.

Without thinking, she picked up a stone on the beach and aimed it as one of the assailant's heads, "Stop!"

The rock landed square on the back of one of the men's skull getting his attention. The man turned and faced her with a menacing grin; a gold tooth glinting in the moonlight. 

“And whatta we ‘ave ‘ere. Looks like ‘ole Sparrow’s got a friend.”

His comrade crudely whistled at Margaret, "Ain't it like 'ole Jack to 'ave a friend who looks like that. Come're love, let us have a look at ya." 

Margaret rolled her eyes at the idiocy and removed her sword. One of the men lunged for her. She made quick work of the aggressor; slicing him superficially across the chest causing him to fall to his knees. She knocked him out with her sword hilt and watched as he collapsed in the sand. 

The other man ran towards her, sword raised, realizing Margaret was, in fact, a threat. 

Her sword clashed with his. She easily dodged his sloppy maneuvering. However, her opponent was three times her size and used his brute strength to knock her over. She fell backwards and called out to Jack for assistance, "Jack, I could use some help!"

“Ya’ look to be doing pretty okay there Maggie!” The pirate responded.

Letting out an irritated huff, Margaret landed a well-placed kick at her assailant’s groin. The man let out a wail; doubling over to grab at his injured privates. She jumped to her feet and landed a clean cut across his shoulder blades. Using her weight as leverage, she pushed him to the ground where he fell next to his partner. 

With the goons out cold, she stared at Jack expectantly, “Old friends of yours?”

“Wouldn’t consider them friends. They don’t go back like you and I,” Jack smiled bashfully swaggering over to her. He put his arm around Margaret and led her down the beach at a more relaxed pace. She tried to remove herself from his grip. 

Despite his inebriated manner, the pirate was surprisingly strong. 

Jack maneuvered her up a different stairway and to a quieter part of town, "With that little problem out of the way, why don't I buy ya' a pint of rum and we can discuss how on earth you ended back up in the Caribbean."


	6. Chapter 6

Jack led Margaret to a part of Tortuga she didn’t fully recognize. It was quieter than the rest of the island. Margaret could tell only a certain type of pirate visited the establishments on this street. These weren’t common brigands who captained digynies; reveling in the mud and the blood and the beer of Tortuga’s popular breeding grouns. These were respected lords of the seas.

She studied her surroundings as her companion rambled nonsense into her ear. 

“When we got back to Tortuga, I thought everything was settled between Hector and me. That’s until I show up to the docks to realize my ship is sailing away without me! Now, I’m without the Pearl trying to find a new ship to Captain, and a crew who is willing to sail with me. Tricky situation, ain’t it?”

Margaret smirked. Sparrow was an idiot if he ever believed himself “settled” with Barbossa. They were conflicting forces, so interconnected and intertwined yet forever be on opposite sides. The Easterners’ called it “yin and yang.” She found it poetically humorous. 

Despite the smell of his breath and the way he clung to her, Jack’s ramblings were proving useful. He wanted the Black Pearl back. If he was in possession of that notorious map, he no doubt had his heart set on sailing for the Fountain. She could leverage her knowledge about Barbossa and his whereabouts, and use Jack to her own benefit.

“Now how’d ye get back to the Caribbean, Maggie? I heard from some pretty birds that after Barbossa left you on Hispaniola, and you ended up traveling the Continent.”

Margaret wondered how Jack could possibly know such information, but decided to pointedly ignore him. 

Instead, she shrugged, “Life has an interesting way of working, Jack. I was abroad for a time, but the Caribbean will always be my home. I got myself a job working for an Italian merchant who was charting course for San Juan; planned to set myself a small shop and become a respectable tradeswoman.”

Side-eyeing Jack, she wondered if he detected the obvious lie. 

Jack, as oblivious as ever, nodded, “An honorable future, Maggie. Is that what you’re doing here in Tortuga? Setting up yer business?”

“No, unfortunately, as fate would have it, our ship was plundered by pirates before it could make it to port,” Margaret replied with a false sorrow in her voice. 

Stopping in the street, Jack looked genuinely sad for her. He clapped her on the shoulder offering his sympathies. He would buy her the first round of rum in order to commiserate on their shared failures and disappointments. 

Before Jack could walk away, Margaret grabbed his hand and stopped him. He looked down at their intertwined fingers and his eyebrow raised suggestively. Stepping forward, so that their faces were inches apart and she was able to make out the depth of the ‘X’ shaped scar on his cheek, she whispered:

“Can you guess which pirate ship sank my only hopes at a decent future? Which black-hearted scoundrel has robbed us _both_ of our only chances at happiness?”

The pirate captain, who had been momentarily lost in a trance, tensed as understanding dawned on his face. 

Jack glanced down at her from his kohl lined eyes, jaw clenched, “Barbossa...”

His voice trailed off. 

Margaret nodded, “Barbossa has the Pearl, Jack. When he finished pillaging the merchant ship, he took me back aboard the Pearl, stole my possessions, and sailed for Tortuga. It’s here: _the Black Pearl_. Barbossa has it docked in the bay…wait! Where are you going?”

Her revelation was interrupted when Jack turned on his heels and began to walk in the opposite direction of the way they had been traveling. Back towards the mayhem that littered Tortuga’s docks; towards the Pearl. 

Panicking, she held onto his hand attempting to make him stop.

“I’ve gotta get my ship, Maggie. If ye’d be so kind to lead me to its location, I will retrieve the Pearl, sail you to San Juan where you can set up your little shop, and leave Hector stranded on this bloody island like he has done to us so many times in the past.” 

She quickly disagreed, “No, Jack, we need to devise a plan. Part of the crew is still aboard the Pearl. They won’t have you as their Captain if you can’t offer them something better than what Barbossa can—”

“I can offer them all the fame and fortune the world has and more!" Jack countered.

“But can you offer them a chance to drink from the Fountain of Youth?”

Jack froze at the mention of the Fountain. He stopped in his tracts. Eyeing her suspiciously, he came closer to her and whispered, “Who told you about the Fountain?”

“When Barbossa brought me aboard the Pearl, I saw the map. The one you destroyed,” Margaret clarified. “I know you have the missing piece and you think it’ll lead you to the Fountain of Youth. However, I happen to know Barbossa has recently come into possession of a book that unlocks secrets about the Fountain’s location. Barbossa is here on Tortuga trying to find out more information using the book. So, if we can find Barbossa, take the book from him, and get the Pearl, we’ll have everything we need to make sure he can’t come after us.”

The pirate ruminated on the idea. Margaret knew she would need Jack’s help in order to get back the book, her gold, and her goods from Barbossa. He didn’t need to know the book was first in her possession to begin, or anything else regarding her contentious relationship with Barbossa. Those were details which would only distract from her primary goals. 

To rest her bets on Jack Sparrow was a risky business, but he was the only ally she had right now. 

After a moment, Jack smiled at her. 

“Maggie, I think you’ve got the right idea. And, come to think of it, I know the only person on Tortuga who may have knowledge of the Fountain. Come ‘on then, let’s get me ship back!” 

The young woman couldn’t help return the pirate’s grin as he dragged her with him towards the high street.

~*~

Music met her ears as Jack pulled her into the tavern. The weathered sign outside read “ _The Faithful Bride_.” She had heard of this tavern before from Barbossa. It was run by an old crewmate of his. 

Only the most infamous of pirates stepped forward in this establishment. Margaret could see why. It was much nicer than any tavern on Tortuga which Margaret had seen. Mayhem didn’t drip from every crevice. Most of the glasses and bottles sat unbroken on the tables. The women servicing the patrons were dressed in nicer silk fineries than the common Tortuga harlot was afforded. There was even music being played on a piano.

Some of the men inside shot her appreciative glances as she stepped through the doorway. She kept her chin raised and scrutinized the crowded tables expecting to see Barbossa among the scallywags. 

A ruckus began as Jack made his presence known.

As if on cue, Margaret ducked as a shoe was aimed for Sparrow’s head. 

“Ye best be here to pay yer debts, Jack!”

The general noise of the tavern quieted as a redheaded woman, around Jack’s age, came forward with her revolver drawn. The redhead, who Margaret assumed was the owner of this establishment, pointed the gun at Jack’s chest and Margaret wondered what sort of trouble the pirate had gotten them into. 

Jack put his hands up in defense. He gulped nervously, “Now, now, Bella, what are debts compared to an old friendship?”

To prove her point, the taven-keeper readied the gun’s safety. With one hand still raised, Jack quickly retrieved a silver coin from his jacket pocket and handed it to the redhead, “This should settle it. Now, I’m just ‘ere to show my new first mate, Maggie, a good time.”

The gun was lowered, the doubloon was tucked away in the tavern-keeper’s bosom, and all appeared forgiven. The woman turned her attention to Margaret who tried to appear unbothered by the scene that had just unfolded before her eyes. 

Arabella gave Margaret a once over with a disapproving eye.

“Yer first mate? Wouldn’t you need a ship ‘fore ye could ‘ave a first mate, Jack?”

“That’s why I’ve come, Bella,” Jack reasoned. Margaret nodded along with Jack’s inane lie. They had agreed that Margaret would do all the talking, but that agreement was seemingly lost to the ocean. 

“I would have you know, there is a vessel that is in dire need of my experienced commandeering. Now, ya wouldn’t happen to see my old Pa lying around somewhere? I know he is presently infatuated with one of yer little coquettes.”

“Ain’t Captain Teague popular tonight? Yer not the first to ask about his whereabouts. Barbossa is ‘ere tryin’ to locate Captain Teague, as well,” Arabella responded dubiously. 

At the mention of Barbossa, Margaret perked up, “Captain Barbossa is here in this tavern?”

“Yes, he’s upstairs with Connie, Captain Teague’s girl. Don’t know when he’s comin’ back down. Connie is a real charmer. Keeps the men entertained for a while and Barbossa looked like he had coin to burn,” Arabella winked with innuendo dripping from her voice. “But, I don’t think he’d be ‘appy to see you, Jack.”

Jack’s eyes darted over to Margaret at the news that Barbossa was at the moment occupied with a trollop. 

Anger mixed with a wounded pride caused her to feel like the ground beneath her was shaking. The bloody bastard was spending her gold coin on wenches. 

Margaret would see Barbossa strung up to dry if it was the last thing she ever did.

Arabella led them over to the bar and disappeared into the backroom. Jack ordered them two flagons of rum from a busty waitress while Marlene grinded her molars together in anger. Her desire to see the Pirate Lord’s head was dampened by the sight of Master Pintel and Ragetti approaching them.

“Isn’t that the famous Capt’n Jack Sparrow?”

“I do believe it is, Ragetti,” Pintel answered his crewmate. 

Quickly, Margaret lowered the brim of her hat hoping to hide her identity behind the leather fabric. She turned around, so her back was to the approaching pirates. 

She heard Jack nervously greet the pirates, “Ahh, come to beg fer yer old Captain back? I am one to forgive mutinies as I have often partaken in them myself!”

“We’re sailin’ with Capt’n Barbossa now. The Capt’n will be mighty disappointed to see you again though, Jack Sparrow.”

Slowly, Margaret inched away from the bar leaving Jack to deal with the pair of pirates. She wouldn’t be hauled back to the Pearl to be trussed up like a prize pig while Barbossa dragged her along to disaster. Thankfully, her absence went unnoticed and she was able to slip through the tavern. She eyed the tavern’s front door knowing it was the surest way to escape. She could walk out of _The Faithful Bride_ , forget her plans, and try and make a life for herself. 

Instead, the young woman made her way up the stairwell to the second floor.

Her temples were pounding from adrenaline mixed with the rum in her system.

Passing a myriad of painted wenches and their customers, Margaret stopped a young serving girl in the hallway carrying a set of fine crystal glasses and a bottle of wine on a silver tray. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know which room Connie’s is?”

The girl seemed to think about it before slowly answering, “It’s the third door down on the left. I’m actually takin’ this tray to her room. Connie is entertain’ a gentleman caller.”

Margaret swallowed the urge to grimace. Thinking on her feet, an idea came to mind and she queried, “Would you let me take that to Connie? There’s some gold in it for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exepct some spice in the next chapter! I hope you all are enjoying the story. ;)


	7. Chapter 7

The heat from the fireplace warmed the soles of his boots. With a life out on the open seas, it was not often that Hector could truly enjoy the comforts of domesticity. The soft cushions of the chaise lounge eased the aches and pain that came with age, and the perfumed air was a welcome change from the stink of his crew. Barbossa was not one to turn down such luxuries. He enjoyed the finer delicacies the world offered to him. 

Connie was busy fussing with herself in the looking glass. Her curled hair was festooned with silk rosettes to match her gown. She wore no powder, but she wore rouge on her lips and cheeks. Her gown was in the new style; an emerald silk confection with a deep square neckline, a whalebone corset, and flounces of lace along the skirt.

Captain Teague had fine tastes in women. Barbossa would make sure to tell him. If he ever found the Captain. 

The coquette was reticent to give details about Teague. Connie preferred not to discuss her client’s business; _the secrets of the boudoir_ , and all that nonsense. He did not have time to abide by the etiquette of wooing the information from Connie. 

To expedite the process, Barbossa pulled a gold coin from Margaret’s silken purse and flashed it at the woman. 

Connie’s eyes fell to the gold coin held precariously in his fingers. Then, she met his gaze in the looking glass. Barbossa smirked.

The value of a gold coin was worth ten times (or more) the cost than a single night in the courtesan’s company. No matter how becoming she may be.

“Well, Captain Barbossa, ‘spose I can make an exception for you,” the woman crooned as she crossed the room. She made herself comfortable on the chaise beside him and Barbossa chuckled. He handed the woman the coin and she grinned.

“Where was Captain Teague headin’ when ye last saw him?”

“I ‘eard from him he was headed to Havana. Had some business there on behalf of the Brethren Court.”

 _Havana_. Not a far journey. Barbossa would be able to catch up with the pirate though there was no guarantee that Teague would be in Havana.

Barbossa grimaced in disappointment. There was another line of inquiry he could pursue:

“Wouldn’t happen to know where I can find Jack Sparrow?”

The wench rolled her eyes at the mention of Jack’s name and shook her head in answer, “Haven’t seen Jack Sparrow since he made off without payin’ his tab. Not like his Pa at all, Captain Teague always makes sure to pay his debts.”

Another dead end. At least he had Margaret’s book. The book provided rough coordinates for the Fountain’s location, but he wasn’t the type to go racing towards a prize without checking to make sure there weren’t any traps set along the path. He would spend the remainder of his time on Tortuga tracking down Jack and finding out more information about the Fountain. If he didn’t have any leads by sundown tomorrow, he would set sail with the book as his guide. At which point, Barbossa would return the remainder of the gold coin to Margaret and leave her behind on Tortuga.

It would be déjà vu. Setting sail again on the Pearl, leaving her alone on an island, ruining her plans, and burning any last bridge of good will that remained between them. Barbossa had a good excuse the last time; the fate of his soul hung in the balance. Now, what was his excuse?

The temptation of eternal life, he reckoned. He was reminded of what Margaret said when he had told her about his quest for the Fountain of Youth: 

“ _Eternal life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be_.”

Perhaps, the woman spoke some truth.

Lost in contemplation, Barbossa nearly forgot the presence of the wench beside him. It wasn’t until he felt a warm hand against the fabric of his shirt that he remembered the wench sitting beside him. Connie came closer; laying herself nearly prostrate over his lap. 

“My apologies love that I couldn’t be more ‘elpful. With that business taken care of, I say we now get to enjoyin’ ourselves…”

At Connie’s insistence, he had removed his coat and his hat. They hung neatly on a rack by the door along with his belt and scabbard. Thus, the wench’s hand was free to rub soft, dangerous circles on his upper thigh. Through the fabric of his trousers, he could feel her knowing touch get closer and closer to the flesh that pulsed beneath. Barbossa couldn’t keep himself from stroking the skin of the wench’s cheek. It had been too long since he’d last been with a woman. Too many months spent alone in his bed. 

Long skilled fingers cupped him through his trousers. Margaret’s face came to the forefront of his mind as Barbossa closed his eyes from the feeling. 

He pictured the young woman of his desire; her full rosebud lips, her crystal blue eyes, her tempestuous brows. He recalled in perfect memory the contours of her naked body. The way she would throw her head back in ecstasy as he made her come time and time again with his mouth. 

Oh, he would pay a hundred gold coins to recreate such memories. 

Barbossa craved Margaret, but knew she would not likely have him now, or ever again. 

Nonetheless, there was a perfectly willing wench presently sitting in his lap.

Connie’s head tilted forward as her fingers worked at untying his trouser laces. Her golden eyes flashed dangerously as she licked her lips. Barbossa couldn’t help being tempted by the action. Despite himself, he dipped his head forward to taste the coquette’s ruby lips.

The door to the boudoir opened.

Barbossa glanced up thinking it was the serving girl Connie had sent off arriving with the requested wine and refreshments. 

To the Pirate Lord’s astonishment, Margaret stood in the doorway. 

The first thing he noticed was the genuine disappointment on her face as she observed the scene before her. 

_“[The coin] shall surely buy me the company of a dozen pretty wenches on Tortuga.”_

And here he was in the company of one of Tortuga’s finest.

To her credit, the look on her face quickly morphed into a sardonic smirk. She raised her sword at the pair of them on the chaise.

Connie jumped to her feet, a curse on her lips, but Margaret aimed the tip of the sword at the wench’s throat.

“Best not be acting rash, Connie. Now go on and get out of here. I have no troubles with you. It’s the Captain I’m here to see, and we’ll be needing to speak in private.”

Emphasizing her point, Margaret took a menacing step forward. Connie glanced back at Barbossa before collecting her skirts and fleeing the room. 

Margaret locked the door behind her. For a moment, she remained with her back facing him. He would’ve jumped up from the couch, but he was trying to settle the hardened erection the wench’s teasing had created in his trousers.

An empty chuckle emanated from the young woman. 

“What’s sad is I expected better from you when you’ve shown me time and time again just who you are,” Margaret finally said. Her voice was flat and hollow. She rummaged in his jacket pocket and retrieved her book; tucking it away in her own jacket. 

“Thought you didn’t want the book,” Barbossa quipped. He didn’t know what else to say. He felt guilty and incredulous all at the same time. He wouldn’t let Margaret leave with the book. It was only clue to finding the Fountain of Youth. Still, he was figuring out a stratagem in his mind which would cause her to emotionally suffer as little as possible.

“I wasn’t planning on taking it,” she shrugged. “But now that I realize the value of it, to the right seller, I’ll make enough coin to be set for life.”

As she crossed the room to stand before him, sword now pointed at him, she grinned, “And, I’ll be depriving you a visit to the Fountain of Youth which is only icing on top of the cake.” 

Barbossa smiled. There was the fiery, implacable spirit he remembered. Margaret was not, by nature, ruthless. She had adapted to the cruelty of the world and all its injustice. She could be merciless if the need arose and “ _hell hath no fury like a woman scorned_.”

“As for my gold, give it here. I need a little money to get off this cursed island,” she gestured to the coin purse on the chaise.

Barbossa slowly reached for the bag. He held out the velvet pouch for her to take. When her fingers were firmly around the purse, Barbossa made his move. He jumped up to his feet, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her forward. The unexpected action caused her to fall off-balance and towards him. Narrowly avoiding her sword, he put a hand over her fingers gripping the sword handle. Twisting her arm uncomfortably until he was sure the bone would pop from the socket, he watched the sword drop unwillingly to the floor.

At this, Margaret let out a frustrated cry. Barbossa spun her around and pinned her arms behind her back. However, the young woman would not be so easily tamed. She kicked at him. One of her heels, now wrapped in a wood soled shoe, connected with his shin. He growled.

“Come now Margaret, ye courted fire when ye devised this little plan,” he chided as he attempted to restrain her.

She responded in an infuriated yell, “Get off me, you fucking bastard!”

Another blow to the same shin resulted in him loosening his grip on her. She took advantage of the opportunity to throw her head back, so it connected with his chin. Barbossa pushed her out of his arms onto the floor as pain bloomed across his jaw. Margaret fell to the floor, attempting to grab her sword, but he stepped on the blade. 

“Not getting away that easily, love,” he growled. His temper was growing as their scuffle progressed. Why could she not leave well enough alone?

Scrambling to her feet, she ran to the hook by the door and took his own sword into her hand. The weight of the sword, much greater than her own thinner blade, made her stance lopsided. He picked her discarded weapon off the floor.

With hand outstretched, he pressed, “Give me the book. Ye can have your coin back. It’s enough to set yerself up finely on any island in the Caribbean. Just give me the book Margaret.”

The only response he received was a furious shake of her head.

Once, when they had first met, back when he was hunting down the Aztec Gold, Margaret had challenged him to a duel. She had been all of twenty years old at the time; uncouth and eager to prove herself. Her technique had been sloppy, but she proved a willing pupil under his tutelage. No doubt her years spent in the various corners of the world had honed her ability. 

Barbossa would do well not underestimate her.

He made the first move testing her reflexes. She adapted well with his blade and countered his moves. He tried again. This time he aimed for her unprotected hip. She blocked his attack. She swung for his left shoulder, a weak spot of his, and he narrowly avoided being sliced by his own sword. 

The metal on metal clashed reverberating through the empty room. 

Despite her ability to fend off his maneuvers, he was in the process of backing her against the corner by Connie’s armoire. He smiled and continued his assault. Her eyes grew wide. Margaret was beginning to panic. He could smell it on her.

Their swords met at the hilt. She was using all her strength to keep him off her. It was difficult to do so with the wall on one side and the armoire on the other.

Finally, the Pirate Lord prevailed. 

Margaret dropped her weapon, so the cold metal of the sword in his hand pressed against the woman’s chest. She grimaced as the sharpness of the weapon kissed her skin. Barbossa would not harm her, but he would have the book in the end.

“Hand over the book Margaret. Do not make me do anything I don’t want to do,” he said. There was a plea in his voice which he didn’t even realize was there. It surprised him; the sentiment behind the warning.

“Fine,” she surrendered. Her eyes were watering when he met her gaze. 

Barbossa withdrew some of the pressure he had on her not wanting to cause her any real injury. 

With a defeated sigh, Margaret reached for the book in her jacket. 

He should’ve predicted what would happen next.

The woman grabbed an open jar of perfume sitting on the armoire. It was the scent Connie had been bathing herself in when he had first entered her bedroom. A sickly-sweet smell of gardenia and vanilla. 

Margaret tossed it at him.

When the perfume hit his face, the liquid burned his eyes. Barbossa was momentarily blinded. He cursed a black oath and stepped back rubbing at his eyes with his shirtsleeve. 

This allowed the young woman just enough time to duck away and make it out the door.

"Margaret!" Barbossa called out into the empty room.


End file.
